


Pistachi-Oh, Dear...

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: But it all turns out OK, Crime Fighting, Detectives, Dirk suffers, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied Brotzly, Muffins, Non-Graphic Violence, Organized Crime, Prompt Fill, Smuggling, implied animal cruelty, this got out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: All Dirk wanted was a muffin. The universe had better ideas.Funny/fluffy and yet oddly gritty prompt fill for victorluvsalice on tumblr





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Oh, boy, I got the DGHDA writing bug good and proper! Maybe one of these days I'll even get good at writing these characters xD
> 
> This story is based on the prompt 'Dirk gets a muffin- adventure somehow ensues', and it got away from me a little bit... there's implied animal cruelty due to a smuggling ring, and some unfortunate violence against Dirk (sorry!), but happy endings for all involved!
> 
> Enjoy!

Dirk looked up from his desk- which would have been less startling if he hadn’t been staring at it for about the last seven hours pulling various frustrated facial expressions. The sudden, jerky movement of his head almost had Todd falling off his chair. It wasn’t as surprising as the events following; in which Dirk picked up his jacket, smiled his sunny smile at Todd as if he hadn’t just spent half a day trying to force-choke his desk, and announced that he was off for a muffin.

“For a what?” Todd asked, bemused. He blinked a few times, pushing his file aside. It was possible he’d been staring at it so long he’d forgotten how to human. The exotic bird smuggling ring they’d been tasked to uncover was sneaky, and the clues were few and far between. Not that Dirk really concerned himself with ‘clues’, but at least one of them had to go through the motions.

“A muffin,” Dirk repeated happily, pulling on his jacket- a nice orange one he’d picked up about a week ago. Todd had yet to figure out _exactly_ how many of those jackets he had, but from the ones he’d seen, he guessed about eight. Hundred. “I’m starving and stuck waist-deep in case limbo. Such a dire situation needs to be addressed- ideally with baked goods. Pick you one up, shall I? Blueberry?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Todd mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes. It occurred to him that Dirk was acting odd(er), which was never a good sign, and he should probably check that their lives weren’t in imminent danger.

But by the time he opened his eyes, Dirk was already gone.

* * *

 

The pull of the universe led Dirk, as it often did, to their favourite coffee shop, right up to the familiar bakery counter. Or at least, he’d thought it happened often- but now that he could feel the tangible sensation of its intervention in his mind, he was starting to realize that on previous occasions he’d probably just been really hungry and projecting.

This time there was no denying that little metaphorical tug on his brightly-coloured sleeve, taking him exactly where he needed to be. His heart was in his throat. If this was where he needed to be, that meant that something needed to _happen_. Such things seldom ended well (for him. They seemed to work out just splendidly for everyone else).

Oddly enough, the first thing that happened was he chose a different muffin. As he ordered he found his finger gliding just left of his usual favourite banana concoction, settling instead some bright green thing. Pistachio, his server said. He nodded and paid without further comment. The universe’s plans were often baffling and convoluted, and apparently today they involved him buying a pistachio muffin. He’d had stranger requests.

Two minutes later he was stepping outside, carefully tucking the box with his purchases into his messenger bag. He’s not sure why he brought the bag at all. Perhaps he’d been considering working on the case in the park for a while? Of course, then Todd would have to wait for his muffin...

He was interrupted in his musings and his familiar walk back to the agency by the sight of a cat darting just out of view. He beamed, starting after it. He loved cats. Maybe it was friendly?

He decided it probably wasn’t when he rounded the corner into an alley and found it and it’s hissing, spitting buddies had an Unidentified Cowering Something cornered. He sprang forward without thinking- maybe they were all picking on the runt of the litter? If that was the case, Shark Kitten might be finding himself with a new feline roommate. 

“Shoo!” he exclaimed, nudging the spitting cats aside with his foot. “Go on, off with you! Pick on someone your own size. Ouch! Not me!” he hopped away from the cat that was clawing his shin, glowering at it. Another decisive shove with the toe of his shoe sent it running. Once the bully cats had all dispersed, he turned to their victim with a relieved sigh- which immediately caught in his throat.

“...You’re not a cat.”

Indeed, the hapless former prey of the alley cats appeared to be a bright green, somewhat bedraggled parrot. It croaked weakly at him, flexing a wing. Just one. The other hung sad and limp at its side. 

Dirk crouched down to closer observe the pitiful thing, eyes widening in sympathy- and also recognition. “You look awfully familiar,” he said softly, cocking his head to the side. The bird imitated him, croaking once more.

It was then that all the pieces came together in Dirk’s mind- the bright green plumage, the patches of red and purple on the head, sharp beak for excessive chewing and the cracking of nuts. He gasped. “You’re a lilac-crowned Amazon!” he squeaked, clapping his hands excitedly. “I’m working a case on you!” he gasped again. “Oh my, are you one of the smuggled birds? You are, aren’t you? Oh, _wait_ ‘til Todd hears about- _mmph_!”

He didn’t get any further, because that’s when an arm closed around his shoulders, and a chemical-drenched cloth blocked his mouth and nasal passages. He struggled in his assailant’s grip, found his feet lifted off the ground- his attacker must be tall, taller than him. He’d make Todd look like a homunculous. No, this was _not_ the time for smart remarks about Todd’s height! He was under attack, being chloroformed, and at high risk of being kidnapped and/or murdered imminently. He had to... had to...

He managed one last, feeble kick to his assailant’s shins, before unconsciousness took over.

_Shit..._

* * *

 

He woke to the smell of freshly baked muffins. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep at his desk again? Todd must have gone out to get them both breakfast... no. No, it wasn’t a homely smell. No Todd’s shampoo, no faint whiff of coffee and ink. Beneath the admittedly rather weak smell of muffins was something rather more depressing. Damp, concrete and... animals? That didn’t make sense...

Seeing no other alternative, he slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re awake,” a gruff voice greeted him. Definitely not Todd. Oh, dear. “You came round quickly- been chloroformed before?”

“It’s not an uncommon occurrence,” Dirk replied, hoping it might make him sound tough. It was then that he realized he was slumped on the floor, hands bound behind him, and his voice was hoarse and thin. So he didn’t make the most intimidating first impression. Craning his neck, he looked up towards the voice, and found possibly one of the most enormous and frightening men he’d seen in his life standing over a table upon which the contents of Dirk’s bag had been emptied. Including the muffins, thankfully untouched. Maybe he and Todd would get their mid-case snack yet...

"Who sent you?” the man demanded, walking ominously closer.

“No one!”

“Bullshit,” the remark was followed with a swift and merciless kick to Dirk’s side. 

He gasped, winded and shocked- usually people spent a little longer building up to the physical persuasion, played a little hard to get. Clearly this bird-smuggling brute hadn’t been taught proper interrogation etiquette. “It’s true!” he pressed, when his breath had returned. “I was just out getting muffins! I only found your bloody bird ‘cause of a stray cat!

“Really? So how’d you know you’re here ‘cause of the bird?”

 _Shit._ “...Hunch?”

The man smiled in a decidedly nasty manner. “Nice try, English,” he sneered, aiming another kick into Dirk’s midriff. His eyes watered from the pain. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again, and this time I want a _real_ answer; who sent yo-”

He was cut off by a door swinging open, and a much smaller man bursting through in a panic. “There’s cops outside!”

Bad Stompy Man (as he was now named in Dirk’s head) glared at Dirk. “Guessing the Brit told someone where he was looking,” another kick. Now he was just being rude. “C’mon. We’ll get rid of ‘em.”

Mercifully, both their footsteps retreated, the door swinging shut and locking behind them, and Dirk was left alone with the pain in his stomach and the smell of muffins.

_Skwaaaaark..._

And... a parrot. Same one as before, hunched miserably in a far too small cage on the table with Dirk’s belongings. _Wait._ He couldn’t have...

Dirk dragged himself up to sitting, and scooted slowly and painfully towards the table. Everything in his bag was there, but surely his guard wouldn’t have left... Oh, he _did_. His pocket knife. Neatly folded, buried under old bus tickets. Oh, thank _god_ Dirk didn’t take Todd’s warning about not bringing knives to gunfights seriously!

He realized about thirty seconds into attempting to scoop up, unfold and angle the knife with both hands bound behind his back that there was a major flaw in this plan. “Drat!” he whimpered, dropping the knife. No good. He had limited finger movement and no way to see. But how else could he break the ropes?

_Skwaaaark!_

He glanced at the parrot. It’s head, just small enough to fit through the bars of the cage, was snapping and pecking in the direction of something. He looked around. All he had was some chewing gum, a plastic kazoo and-

_The pistachio muffin._

He flailed his bounds hands until he caught the muffin between his wrists, just above the ropes, and squeezed. Crumbs came loose, dripping into the minuscule gap between his wrists and ropes, lodging in the fibers. Now, if only those notes he read were correct about sharp beaks and a fondness for nuts...

“Here, birdy,” he cooed, edging up close to the cage and turning his back to it, pressing his hands against the bars. “Give us a hand, eh? There’s more where that came from!”

After a moment of tense silence, the bird started pecking. Dirk almost whooped with joy, but wisely kept it tamped down lest Bad Stompy Man return and confiscate the parrot before it could do it’s job.

But do it’s job it did, and after a couple of minutes of painstaking pecking and chewing it had made one strand of rope weak enough to tear. But one strand was more than enough.

Rubbing his sore wrists, Dirk turned to the parrot with sparkling eyes. “Oh, you are absolutely and positively the most wondrous bird in existence!” he tore off an enormous chunk of muffin and pushed it through the bars, before hastily gathering his things back into the bag. Now if only he could get out before-

The door swung open, and in strode Bad Stompy Man. His eyes momentarily widened at the sight of Dirk, free from ropes and standing tall, but immediately narrowed again in hostility. “You sneaky little shi-”

Dirk, blinded by panic, felt his body move on autopilot. He reached back, grabbing the nearest thing. Please be the knife, please be the kn- _the bloody muffin._ Shit. No time, no second chances. Stompy Man lunged, the parrot squawked, and Dirk screwed his eyes shut, throwing his hand out in front of him-

-and smushing the entire pistachio muffin into Stompy’s face.

For a very long, tense moment, both men stood in awkwardly close proximity in total silence- Stompy Man’s arms outstretched to tackle, Dirk’s palm flattened against his face.

Then Stompy started wheezing.

Dirk watched, wide-eyed, as Bad Stompy Man sunk to his knees, clutching at his rapidly swelling throat, eyes bulging like a pug’s before rolling back in his head. Moments later, his entire burly mass was sagging to the floor like a sack of anaphylactic potatoes. Dirk glanced between his wheezing mass, back to the crumbs and small, sliced pistachios cascading through his fingers.

“...Well,” he breathed, blinking several times. “That was lucky.”

Stompy groaned, and Dirk sprang into action. He scooped the rest of his belongings into his bag, dropped it over his shoulder, and in a moment of impulsiveness unbolted the parrot’s cage and gathered the wounded bird into his arms.

“C’mon, now,” he muttered, holding the quietly croaking parrot to his chest. “Todd will be wondering where on earth we’ve got to...”

* * *

 

The rest of his daring escape went by thankfully without a hitch. He panicked a little when he saw that two of Stompy’s associates were stationed by the doors. But a quick detour into another room where many very miffed parrots were held captive in bolted cages soon solved that problem. As it turned out, the birds were no more inclined to be nice to their captors than he was. He bolted for freedom in the cover provided by seventy-six angry parrots pecking the smugglers’ faces. And the police, as promised, were nearby.

“How did you know to call them?” Dirk asked, gazing at Todd with wide eyes.

“Not even you can take forty minutes to get muffins from round the corner,” Todd explained, looking Dirk up and down for signs of injury. “So either something horrible had happened or you found something.”

“Both, actually,” Dirk said, smiling softly. “Your detective-ing is coming along in leaps and bounds, Todd! There may be a promotion on the horizon for you, yet!”

Todd rolled his eyes. Dirk had to imagine it was the nearby flashing lights of the police cars casting a pinkish glow across his cheeks. Todd cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot. “Well... someone in this agency’s gotta do some actual detective work.”

Dirk pouted. “Rude. I’ll have you know I just dismantled an incredibly toxic smuggling operation, almost single-handedly!”

“You followed a cat into a dark alley and got kidnapped.”

“Details,” Dirk waved him off. Then something else occurred to him. “ooh! Just a mo...” he foraged round one-handed in his bag, the other still wrapped tightly round his sore midriff, and emerged triumphantly with a slightly battered cardboard box. He thrust it towards Todd with a beam. “For you!”

Todd took the box, flipping it open, and snorted at the slightly squished blueberry muffin within. “Well,” he said, giving Dirk that wry smile that made him all warm and fluttery. “Better late than never. What happened to yours?”

“Fed a parrot,” he said. His brows drew together. “And possibly killed a man...”

“God, I leave you for five minutes,” Todd muttered, shaking his head. Dirk had to tell himself not to gasp too audibly as his small partner in crime-solving took his hand. “C’mon, the store’s still open. Let’s go get you another.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary-”

Todd’s smile stopped his big mouth right in it’s tracks. “You solved the case. This one’s on me.”

Dirk hesitated, but allowed Todd to pull him along. “...Thank you, Todd,” he bit his lip. “Although, I hope you don’t mind me sharing.”

He loosened the arm around his waist, his jacket flopping open a little. In its depths, huddled snugly against his stomach, the parrot gave a sleepy squawk.

* * *

 

Dirk had a new muffin in his hands within minutes, still warm from the oven. This time he didn’t need the universe to tell him to go for pistachio. They’d already proved to be an invaluable crime-solving resource.

And if his enthusiastic nibbling was anything to go by, Geoffrey the parrot wholeheartedly agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! ^_^ 
> 
> Might come back and tweak this sometime, some bits I'm not entirely happy with, but a decent first attempt I thought! Please leave a comment if you liked it, I'll love you forever! <3 also send me more prompts if you got 'em!
> 
> Later, kiddos! X


End file.
